Emotional Arithmetic Page #4

Keeps track of all the names and numbers

of all the political victims of oppression.

Numbers...

You're in there somewhere.

Let's see...

There's a picture of you.

You, Mom and Christopher, in Drancy.

First time I saw this picture I thought...

I thought you were my grandfather.

- Come in.

- We have to talk.

- Can't it wait?

- No, not really. It's Jakob.

I found him in the barn this afternoon

with my gun. He's not stable.

Of course he's not stable! Look at his life!

Melanie, I know what he means to you,

and I understand, but we're not equipped

to look after a crazy old man.

I'm not asking you to do anything,

- I'll look after him.

- It's you I'm worried about.

Old and painful memories.

I'm sorry, I think he should go.

You're not serious.

The man survives Auschwitz,

a Russian work camp,

and a psychiatric hospital.

Now you're telling him that he has to go

because he might stir up painful memories?

I owe him my life!

He's not going anywhere. He's now part

of this family and you better get used to it!

Do you love me?

What do you think? Of course I do.

Then why don't you ever say it?

Please, Melanie. No, no, no. Don't do that.

Don't do that, please.

I love you.

Okay?

How old were you

when you first got to know?

I was 11.

Came back from school...

My mother had left the book on the table.

I was alone, so I opened it.

Found this picture.

My mother had never mentioned anything

to me about her childhood.

Nothing, not a word. I got scared.

All these people.

Their faces.

Their eyes.

I ran away.

Later my father found me hiding in the barn.

He took me back to his study

and told me that one day my mother

was handed over to the French authorities

and sent to this place called Drancy.

He gave me the whole Drancy lecture.

How it was set up by the French,

eager to collaborate with the Nazis

in getting rid of the Jews.

Jews like us, he said.

Last stop before the death camps.

Didn't seem real to me. I was a child.

He wasn't really talking to me,

he was talking to one of his students.

He told me about her parents.

Americans living in Paris at the time.

They were deported, never to be seen again.

The only thing I could think of

was, " Why wasn't she telling me?"

Did you ever ask her to tell you?

No, we keep on living as if

it's obvious that I know everything.

But I don't.

Now take him gently. Okay, that's it.

Okay. See how beautiful he is.

Okay. Do you want to put him...

Do you want to put him into his bed?

- Okay.

- Okay. Put him in there.

He's crawling out yours.

They're getting out.

Are you okay?

Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay.

- Where are they gone?

- They're back in here.

Okay, be careful with the nest. That's it.

Hello?

Melanie?

I was thinking I should leave in the morning.

If that's what you want.

I think it would be better for you.

"If you ask me, do I believe in God?

" I will say, 'Not yet'

- " I have counted the perfect miracle

- " The perfect miracle

- " Of ten fingers and ten toes

- " Of ten fingers and ten toes

- " On a newborn baby

- " On a newborn baby

"And drunk the love

in your dark eyes

" Until my own eyes wept

"And yet I've seen that baby

Torn howling from his mother's breasts

" And seen a thousand more fade into smoke

" While choirs sang"

" While choirs sang"

"And flowers grew."

You forgot again, Jakob.

Yes.

"And flowers grew."

" And if you ask me, Do you believe in God?

" Forgive me if I answer,

Does God believe in me?"

Dinner's ready!

Are you talking to yourself?

No, I am talking to Juliet.

- Cows can't talk.

- No. But they can listen, you know.

Is that why you stay here all the time?

I suppose.

My grandfather says

it reminds you of your jail.

Well, he might be right, you know.

My grandmother was in jail

when she was little.

That's why we have to be nice to her.

Yeah, but then you have to be

nice to me, too.

Okay. Dinner's ready.

Thank you.

- You're welcome.

- Thank you, Timmy.

Dinner's ready!

Coming.

Cheers.

- Thank you.

- Good Scotch.

- Yeah. Single malt.

My doctor... My bloody doctor

keeps me on a strict regime.

But since we're celebrating,

I don't give a damn!

Dad.

What doesn't kill you

keeps you stronger.

Down the hatch!

Have a drink, for Christ's sake. Lighten up.

We're supposed to be celebrating.

Now, what shall we drink to?

I know. To Melanie.

Melanie.

- Dinner's ready.

- Thank you!

Thank you very much! What's this?

Magic!

Oh no, no, no! Where is it? Where is it?

Where is it? Where is it? I got you!

You'll never get my button! No, no, no!

So, Jakob.

How did you end up in a psychiatric ward?

- It's a long story. Not very interesting.

- Well, I'm interested.

I killed a man.

A prison guard.

They were taking the women prisoners out

one by one and raping them.

I expected they would kill me,

you know, but...

The judge said

I was an incurable psychopath

and instead they gave me drugs,

electroshocks...

And other things.

- It's amazing you survived.

- I am hard to kill.

Mom!

Dinner's ready! We're all waiting!

Finally. We were about to start without you.

Thank you.

I'm so lucky to be at a table

with so many handsome men.

To Jakob.

- To Jakob.

- To Jakob.

- To Jakob.

- To Jakob.

And to the miracle that brought you to us.

Bon apptit.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

- Looks wonderful.

- This doesn't smell good.

Timmy.

You know, I can never eat asparagus

without thinking of you, Jakob.

Oh? Me? Why?

Well, in this camp

we were always, always hungry.

And even if there wasn't any food, Jakob...

Jakob would sit us all down nicely

at this table and pretend to be

an imaginary waiter in a fine restaurant,

do you remember?

- With the little pretend napkin...

- With the pretend napkin over his arm.

And he would announce the items

on the menu and say,

" Tonight we have Sole Meunire,

Beef Wellington,

- "...and asparagus."

- And I always wanted dessert right away.

It was an anti-starvation therapy.

Yes, the famous death camp humor.

- I told you it was going to rain.

- It's not going to rain. Not yet anyway.

Jakob, I have a surprise for you.

Go ahead. Open it.

Help him, Christopher.

Open it, open it, open it, open it!

It's the book that you gave me

all those years ago.

I gave you a book?

It's the book that you gave me

when I first got to the camp.

I gave you a book?

Here, look.

I'll show you. It's... Okay, here it is.

" September 16, 1943, raining again.

" 512 arrived this morning.

" 247 men, 116 women,

" 48 children,

and a newborn baby in a cardboard box.

"467 left by train at 8:00 in the morning..."

You see? "Write it all down."

That's what you said.

" Be a witness because someday someone

will want to know what happened here,"

and I did. You see,

all the details, all the names,

all the ages, everything.

I put it right in here for you.

I mean, even after they took you away.

Look, I kept doing it. See, after you left?

I didn't forget. You see, you have

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